George turned around unhurriedly, his gaze cold as he fixed his eyes on Jane. His expression carried an air of indifference, and the slight upward curve of his mouth held an icy sharpness."Is this place more comfortable than the palace?"His tone was light and casual, but Jane could feel the restrained fury beneath his words.Of course. As the queen, she had run away. That was a blatant affront to both his dignity as a king and his pride as a husband.George took a step forward, closing the distance between them.She did not retreat, nor did she turn to flee.When he stopped a step away, his tall figure loomed over her like a storm cloud, casting a dark shadow across her face. Then, he reached up and tore away her veil. His long fingers lingered on her cheek, tracing along her jaw before resting beneath her chin."Why did you run away?" His voice was drawn out and calm, like the prelude to an execution–playful, yet cruel.Jane met his gaze without fear. "Because I was afraid."
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